


His Father, Who Art in Heaven

by MSpataro210



Series: Season 11 Inspired [10]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 11x20, Awkward Dean, Bisexual Chuck Shurley, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Chuck is God, Chuck is a cool Dad, Dean talks with what's basically his father-in-law, Don't Call Me Shurley, Embarrassed Dean, God and Dean share a heart-to-heart, He only wants what's best for His kids, Honestly the tone switches very often in this, M/M, Really sweet moments, What happens after I guess, backstory!, followed by really funny moments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-06-07 08:31:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6796771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MSpataro210/pseuds/MSpataro210
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has a hard time trying to combine the two things he sees.  At first, he sees Chuck.  The man who hated getting mixed in fights, who loved to drink all morning, and probably knew the Winchester brothers better than they knew each other.  But then, he tries to mix that with the image of God he's been led to believe.  It doesn't mix.  Not at first.  But then he gets talking to God and starts to understand the Man better.  Also helps that Chuck might have something else up His sleeve.  Something that might have to do with His favorite son, and his happiness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Father, Who Art in Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everybody! I really loved episode 20, and like many or hopefully all of you, I am saddened by Robbie Thompson's departure. But, we must carry on, my wayward sons and daughters. I was inspired to do this because I thought the idea that Dean and Chuck just having a nice talk, about life and stuff and Cas, would be great. Especially now that it's not just Chuck, his friend, but now Chuck, Cas's dad.
> 
> Enjoy!

            The coffee is cold on his tongue. It’s his fifth cup, poured seconds before. The pot is finished now, filled to the brim only hours before. He does not let any of it go to waste.

            “Still here?”

            Dean looks up. Over the rim of his mug, he sees the all-knowing eyes of the All-Father.

            God.

            Or… _Chuck_ , as He told them to call Him.

            “Where else would I be?” Dean shrugs, returning his attention to the stale liquid sliding down his throat.

            Chuck returns Dean’s question with a shrug of His own, “I don’t know, bed? Like your brother?”

            Dean rolls his eyes, “You might be the Heavenly Father, but You ain’t mine.”

            Chuck nods, sitting: “Duly noted.”

            They stay there in silence. Dean keeps his hands and eyes on the cup while Chuck rolls his over Dean like a gentle wave. The hunter can feel the power of His gaze without even looking: familiar, yet almost not. Maybe if the shade of blue were darker…

            He makes himself sad. He makes himself uncomfortable.

            Dean’s fingers start to drum on the ceramic. He counts to four with each digit, and repeats the process again and again. He starts to fall into the motion, eyes drooping. He’s so focused; he almost misses the suspicious throat clearing.

            His head pops up.

            Paternal grey-blue eyes bore into his green ones. He looks back down.

            “What is it?”

            Dean looks back. “Whaddya mean?”

            “Look, Dean,” Chuck throws a hand out, “something’s bothering you. And I have a hunch that it has to do with me.”

            “Hunch?” Dean grumbles, “Or Heavenly Intuition?”

            “A mix of both,” Chuck smirks, “so, care to tell me what it is?”

            “Not really,” Dean says.

            “Would you feel better if we did this behind a curtain?” Chuck asks, “I know you’re more comfortable being honest when no one’s looking.”

            “Dude,” Dean sits straight, “Boundaries.”

            “What? Confession boxes are like a hotline straight to Me,” Chuck shrugs, “you were the one who made it bling.”

            Dean drags a hand down his face. “God, can you stop trying to be a cool Dad?”

            Chuck raises His hands. “Hey,” he defends, “I’m not trying. I am cool: I have the dad bod to prove it. Wanna see?”

            “No!” Dean shouts, hands flying in an attempt to stop Chuck, who’s across the table, from lifting his shirt. Chuck only smirks.

            “Don’t kink-shame Me in My own universe.”

            “If I tell you what’s bothering me will you stop? Please?”

            Chuck chuckles, nodding, “Knew that would work.”

            Dean sighs. He scrubs his calloused hands through his hair. His fingers grip the short strands of dirty blonde, only to release them a second later. He lifts his head after a while.

            “Okay,” he starts, “I will admit that, after all the shock wore off, this… this is just _weird_.”

            “I can understand,” Chuck agrees.

            “You’re Chuck,” Dean says, “But You’re also God?”

            “I am,” Chuck nods, “I can be two people. To Christians, I’m three people in one.”

            “You were a prophet of the Lord?” Dean states.

            “Chuck was supposed to be,” Chuck answers, “Before he died due to complications in his birth. As I saw his soul starting to float up to Heaven I… saw My opportunity to escape. I leaped at the chance. He’s happy, up there, by the way. Gave him the room with the best view.”

            “ _Escape_?” Dean shakes his head, angry, “Escape what? Your family? Your responsibilities? Your _cushy_ little cloud in the sky? Well, Papa, thanks to You and Your rolling stone, the world has gone from shit to even worse with each passing year. And now? Now we have Amara, and Lucifer, and the Darkness… and you know what we don’t have: Cas!”

            “I know,” Chuck looks away, remorse heavy in His voice, “I’m sorry. I… I didn’t think-“

            “That’s right. _You_ didn’t.”

            The air is charged. Now Dean can’t tear his eyes away from the man he thought he knew while Chuck tries not to catch sight of Dean’s fiery greens.

            “I really am sorry,” Chuck whispers.

            Dean takes in God, as He is now: head bowed, repentant. Eyes the color of storm clouds, filled to burst with an emotion Dean knows too well. Something he sees every time he looks in to a mirror. He releases the breath he was holding, and leans back.

            “Okay.”

            “Okay?” Chuck perks up.

            “I don’t completely understand why You left,” Dean starts, “I may never will. You let a lot of things slip past while You were sowing your oats: Leviathans, Angel Wars, Trump’s nomination… But, You’ve finally got Your act together. I’m… _glad_ … You’re back. I’m sure everyone else will be, too… in their own time.”

            “I’m glad to be back too, in a way,” Chuck smiles, “Life on the road, no worries or cares, was pretty fun… but not all the time. There were days I didn’t get a bit of food in My stomach; others where I smelt worse than sewage during a high tide. Didn’t know where I was going to sleep… hoping that a perfect stranger will let Me sleep in her bed… or his bed, if you _know_ what I mean?”

            Dean blinks.

            “What was that?”

            “Come on, Dean,” Chuck laughs, “I know you’re tired but I didn’t think you were _completely_ comatose.”

            “No, no I heard you,” Dean clarifies, shaking his head, “it’s just… _guys_?”

            “Got a problem?” Chuck raises a brow.

            Dean’s eyes widen, “No! It’s just… didn’t think _God_ of all people would be…”

            “Leviticus, the bastard,” Chuck frowns, “You give him an inch, he goes a mile. Give him a platform to preach and he bashes good, queer people.”

            “So it’s his fault?” Dean smirks.

            “Totally,” Chuck rolls his eyes, “I mean, I have nothing against gay people. I don’t know where My followers got that from, honestly? I attended David’s eulogy to Samuel. I had to console the poor guy for _three_ days just so he could get out of bed and finish off the Philistines!”

            “David?” Dean’s eyes alight with interest, “He was?”

            “Totally,” Chuck says, “So many people were. I mean… the island of Lesbos? Let’s just say it didn’t get its name from Sappho alone. She had some help.”

            “Sweet,” Dean whistles.

            “You’d be surprised the amount of people in history were queer: Alexander Hamilton… Leonardo Da Vinci… Joan of Arc… _you_ …”

            Dean breath catches; a lump forming in his throat. His eyes widen to the size of a deer’s, lights blinding its sight. He coils, body ready to flee. Chuck stares him, straight on.

            “I don’t…”

            “Dean,” Chuck levels with him, “I know all. It’s _kind_ of my thing.”

            Dean stays still for a beat; but slowly, he starts to relax. The panic, however, stays bright in his eyes.

            Chuck rolls his own, “Come on, you think I’m gonna _smite_ you after admitting that I like penis and vagina as much as you do?”

            Dean blushes and looks away. “N-no,” he stumbles, “I guess not.”

            “Good,” Chuck smiles, “Maybe there’s hope for you yet…”

            Dean tips his head, brows drawing in. “What do you mean?”

            “What?” Chuck asks, “Like I’m going to let you be with Castiel while _you_ still have trouble letting go of the closet door. Not on My watch. My son deserves better than that.”

            Dean chokes.

            “Angel got your tongue?” Chuck smirks.

            It takes a few seconds, but Dean regains some ability to breathe again. Dean starts, “How do You…?”

            It takes one look from Chuck to realize how stupid the question was.

            “Right…”

            “I understand,” Chuck consoles, “Pretty blue eyes, jaw that can cut glass, and a voice that just sounds freshly fu-“

            “He’s Your son!” Dean remarks, disgusted.

            Chuck shrugs, “I mean, so is everyone on Earth yet I’ve slept with a lot of them.” Dean shivers, grossed out. “Well,” Chuck amends, “actually you’re more like sea monkeys, really-“

            “Please, stop,” Dean raises a hand, “I want to go to sleep with my usual nightmares, not new ones.”

            “Fine,” Chuck shrugs, “Prude.”

            “Sorry I’m not a fan of incest,” Dean fires back, “Next time I’ll be sure to keep my complaints to myself.”

            “Tell that to your fans,” Chuck whispers, looking away.

            “What?”

            “Never mind,” Chuck shakes his head, “We’re getting off topic.”

            “Cas?”

            “Right,” the elder continues, “Honestly, I’m surprised you two haven’t already gotten together. But then again I guess daddy’s lessons run deep.”

            Dean casts a harsh glare onto the being of ultimate energy, as if he was the dangerous one here. Chuck, however, knows to steer clear of that kind of conversation.

            “Haven’t really had the chance, Chuck,” Dean bites, “if You haven’t noticed, life’s been a bit unkind in that department.”

            “Most great love stories are,” Chuck says.

            “I didn’t ask for it to be great,” Dean fires back, “in fact, I didn’t even ask for it in the first place! I didn’t ask for… _him_. To worry about him. To constantly have him on my mind. To picture, in incredible detail, every single little detail on his stupid, handsome face.”

            “Hey, hey,” Chuck consoles him. Dean can feel hands on his. He looks up to see Chuck had gotten closer than before. He’s blurry, but after a couple of blinks, Dean can see Him clearly.

            “Jesus…”

            “Actually, I’m God.”

            “Shut up.”

            They sit in silence for a bit more. Chuck’s grip tight on Dean’s hands: Dean returns with as much strength. Dean can feel the motion of Chuck’s other hand: how it rubs up and down his back, soothingly.

            Dean finds his voice soon enough.

            “God, I really do love him,” he whispers. It echoes in the room, reverently.

            “I know,” Chuck says, “I know.”

            “Was it really that obvious?” Dean asks him.

            Chuck lifts his shoulders, “Well, I mean I have an upper hand when it comes to knowing… well, everything. But… yeah. I remember, back when I was just a guy in a bathrobe with a drinking problem, Sam came to me. Asked me about the books. Wanted to know if there was something going on between the pages he wasn’t seeing.”

            “Oh no,” Dean claps his hand over his eyes. The tips of his ears burn bright red.

            “Don’t worry, Dean,” Chuck comforts, “I made sure to keep it all contextual. It only took someone reading between the lines to know how much you wanted to be between the sheets with My son.”

            “Please, stop,” Dean begs, “I’m very close to throwing myself _willingly_ into the Void.”

            “Like I’ll let that happen,” Chuck smiles, “Billie thinks she runs the show now… but don’t you worry. I got something special waiting up there for you two when the time is right.”

            “Will it…” Dean starts, “Will that be soon?”

            “Don’t go talking like that,” Chuck admonishes, “You’re not going anywhere until I get grandchildren.”

            “Like Cas can get pregnant,” Dean says, but stops, eyes widening. He looks up. “He can’t… can he?”

            “No… NO!” Chuck shakes, “Definitely not. Angels can’t reproduce, thank the Me. I’m talking adoption.”

            “Oh,” Dean nods quick, “Well, than you might already have one? Her name is Claire… Jimmy Novak’s daughter.”

            “Can’t wait to meet her, then,” Chuck smiles.

            Dean smiles as well. His hands, free of Chuck’s, find purchase on the cup again. He lifts it, looking down at the slimy liquid inside. He puts it back down.

            “Chuck, hate to trouble you,” he asks, “but, if you can turn water into wine, can I get-“

            “I didn’t do that,” Chuck stops him, “just suck it up and drink your drink.”

            Dean rolls his eyes, but acquiesces. Instead of the bitter taste he accepted, familiar warmth pours into his mouth. He looks back up at a smiling God.

            “Didn’t say I wouldn’t,” is all he says, sipping from his own cup.

            They sit in silence again, more comfortable than before. This time when Dean breaks it, it is more like opening a door than breaking a window.

            “So you’re _really_ okay with Cas and I… if we ever…”

            “If,” Chuck raises a brow, “I have money going that it _does_ happen.”

            “What?”

            “Listen,” Chuck leans forward, “if I didn’t want you and Castiel to be together, I wouldn’t have made sure he was the one to find you all those years ago in Hell.”

            “…What are you talking about?”

            “When I was in Heaven,” Chuck smiles, “after Lucifer fell from grace, and humans started moving along through history, I set down to work. Thought focusing on souls might… distract me from the pain I felt from betrayal. Banged out near twenty trillion in the time I sequestered myself. Didn’t even take a break… that is, until I felt a small power, watching me. I turned, and it was the smallest of all my children, the youngest: Castiel. Unlike the others, the little guy had a curiosity streak a mile wide, which, along with his rebellious nature, made him quite the troublemaker. He asked me what I was doing. I couldn’t say no to him, so I brought him over to show him the soul I was currently working on. I had finished a similar one like it, after an idea Michael had that he later passed on to Me. I was in the middle of working on the second soul just as Castiel barged in. He stared for a long time… distracted by the bright glow. He looked right at the soul for so long, that when he turned towards Me _I_ was startled. And he told Me, in all seriousness, ‘One day, that soul is going to be mine.’ I stifled a laugh and asked him, ‘How?’ He smiles, looking back at it, and says, ‘I can just tell. It’s going to be mine, and I will be its. Not that difficult, Father.’ Then he moves towards the door, wishing me luck on ‘his soul’. I didn’t work for a long time after that, I couldn’t. It was… the first time I really felt something in a while. Since I smiled. I forgot what it felt like to be… _innocent_. I looked back at the soul, and I just had to. Even though I knew Michael would be upset, I added a little fail-safe to his plan. Set the connections up just right, so it could have something he never even asked for. Then, I set the soul right next to the other, and allowed them to sit until the time was right. That soul… it was yours, Dean Winchester.”

            Dean can’t find any words. He’s been shocked mute. His tongue feels heavy and foreign in his mouth.

            “Cas… did that?”

            “Even before he met you, Dean Winchester” Chuck smiles, “he knew that you two were destined to be together. With a little divine intervention… I might have better set the odds in my favor, for a more secured win. But don’t tell any of the guys I made the pool with. They like to think you’re as straight as they come.”

            “…He really chose me?” Dean chokes out.

            “Didn’t know it at the time,” Chuck nods his head, “Probably doesn’t even remember, after Naomi. But I’m sure it’s locked away somewhere up here.” He taps at His head with his index.

            “All this,” Dean starts, rubbing at his temples “All this destiny crap is really messing with my head.”

            “Nine out of ten it’s complete bullshit,” Chuck tells him, “but there are rare moments where it’s actually meant to be. Lucky you.”

            “Lucky…” Dean whispers, taking all of it in.

            “Kind of makes the moment you get him back all the more sweeter, won’t it?” Chuck smiles.

            “Yeah,” Dean nods.

            “What’re you going to do?”

            Dean looks up, back into the mischievous eyes of his friend and Lord. “What do you mean?”

            “When you beat Amara?” Chuck asks, “Free the damsel locked away in his tower. How’s the hero going to greet his one true love?”

            “I don’t… I don’t know,” Dean leans back, “You mean You don’t know?”

            “She’s like a black hole, Dean,” Chuck answers, “anytime I try to even get a glance of her it all goes dark. I got nothing.”

            “Huh,” Dean huffs, “I-I uh… never really thought. Always just, I mean, I assumed it might never happen so I never put any plans together…”

            “What?” Chuck gasps, “You can’t tell _Me_ you haven’t imagined _that_ moment?”

            “I might have…” Dean admits with a blush.

            Chuck leans forward on his elbows, chin nestled between his fists: “Wanna talk about it?”

            “I mean, it’s nothing special,” Dean scratches at the back of his head, clearing his throat, “I’d banish Lucifer back to his cage… smoke Amara… and, You know, before Castiel can really get his bearings I just… lean in...” He trails off after that.

            “That’s it?”

            “Not good enough?”

            “I did not wait this long for a ‘lean in’ Dean Winchester,” Chuck berates, “When Castiel gets it I want you to _really_ plant one on him.”

            “Should we really be talking about this?”

            “Yes,” Chuck stands, pulling Dean up with him, “You need practice. And this is something I do know _a lot_ about.”

            “So do I-“

            “With guys?”

            Dean ducks his head away from Chuck’s knowing eyes, allowing himself to be dragged further away from the table.

            Chuck stops abruptly, spinning around. He places both hands on Dean’s shoulders. He may stand well beneath Dean’s chin, but the hunter knows the power within the tiny, scraggy man.

            “So, pretend I’m Castiel-“

            “What? No!”

            “ _Pretend_.”

            Dean looks down at the little ball of Heavenly Fury and can’t help but do as He says. He starts out slow, just staring at Chuck. Then he moves a tad closer. They start drifting towards each other. Chuck gets into it, closing His eyes for effect. Dean can’t help but stare, noticing the differences between Castiel and his Father. Their lips are close… getting closer… until…

            Dean turns, Chuck’s lips landing on the hunter’s stubble. He opens His eyes wide in shock. Dean, to make it more uncomfortable, lifts his hands and wraps Chuck in a stiff hug.

            “Dean…”

            “And that’s how I would do it,” he starts to pull away, “nothing really to it.”

            “Kiss Me like a man, Dean.”

            Dean shivers.

            “Come on,” Chuck throws his hands up, “I’m not that unfortunate looking!”

            “Nothing against You,” Dean back peddles, “Honestly, _truly_ … it’s just… You’re Cas’s _Dad._ ”

            “So?”

            “Not for nothing,” Dean starts, “he’s not going to be happy You’ve been gone all this time, You think he’s gonna like knowing You’ve been kissing what’s his? Hell, _I’m_ having a hard time with this knowing You’re his Dad.”

            “Didn’t have a hard time fucking Anna when you _knew_ she was Cas’s sister.”

            Dean squints, blushing.

            “You may have a point,” Dean admits, “it’s awful, and low, and dirty… but it’s out in the open now.”

            “So, what are you gonna do about it?” Chuck smirks.

            Dean knows a challenge when he sees it. “You’d like me to do it, wouldn’t you?”

            “I don’t know.” Chuck shrugs in faux innocence, “If it’s anything like before I won’t. Maybe the legends _have_ been exaggerated. I feel really bad for Cas now…”

            He doesn’t think. He acts.

            Instantly, Chuck is swept into Dean’s arms and dipped. The Heavenly Father is wrapped in Dean’s embrace as the hunter covers God’s lips with his own. He doesn’t force, but caress his tongue inside the other man’s mouth. Showing Him that everything said about Dean Winchester is true… and then some.

            “Dean? Still up? I think we need to talk about… God!”

            Dean drops Chuck. The Father of All Creation falls on his ass, while Dean stands ramrod straight. He looks at Sam with wide eyes and a ferociously red face. Chuck groans from his place on the floor.

            Sam splutters for a bit, his mind racing with thoughts. His mouth chooses for him:

            “He’s Cas’s Dad, Dean!”

            “I know!”

            The brothers stare each other down. In this game of “Awkward Chicken”, Sam loses. He turns, and marches back towards his bedroom. He decides to talk about everything in the morning.

            Dean, when his mind catches back up to him, is soon to follow his brother’s exit. He takes a look at Chuck on the floor, and then kicks him.

            “Next time, just smite me,” he calls back to the forlorn Father, “it’ll be so much _easier!_ ”

            Chuck, now alone, sighs. He stays on the ground, staring at the beige ceiling.

            “You try to do right by Your kids, and _this_ is the thanks You get?” He shakes his head, “Unbelievable.”

            The brothers Winchester find him in the exact same place in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this! Please leave kudos and comments if you really want to show me how you feel!


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